


Fear and Loathing

by BoomyMcBlasty



Category: Baldur's Gate
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Multi, POV Second Person, Psychological Trauma, Spoilers, Unresolved Emotional Tension, can work with both male and female player characters, no beta we die like men, using sex to forget about trauma, your OC here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 07:28:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27169991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoomyMcBlasty/pseuds/BoomyMcBlasty
Summary: He sits next to you and his hand immediately finds your thigh.You almost recoil from the touch—almost.His eyes become heavy with desire, and you could let go. You could do just like him, drown your sorrows in pleasure.
Relationships: Astarion (Baldur's Gate)/Original Character(s), Astarion (Baldur's Gate)/Original Female Character(s), Astarion (Baldur's Gate)/Original Male Character(s), Astarion (Baldur's Gate)/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 92





	Fear and Loathing

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for the second tadpole dream and the conversation with Astarion the day after.  
> The dialogue from the conversation is lifted straight from the game.  
> Can work with both male & female player characters.

You open your eyes, awakened by the light of a new day, and a queasy feeling holds your stomach in an iron grip. It lasts but a second, before a surge of energy takes your breath away— _ changes _ you.

The dream you just fled was crafted to cater to your every desire. It was artificial,  _ wrong  _ in an visceral way only illusions can be… but illusions don’t give you new powers.

Your fingertips tingle with new possibilities, but you are not ready yet. You approach the river, ready to splash some cold sense on your sleepy face, and then realize that you feel  _ fine _ . The feverish fear of the evening before, the one your companions shared with you, disappeared without a trace.

Astarion seems in high spirits. “Well hello! Feeling better, are we?”

Gone is the panic you saw on his face the night before; you must have imagined his pleading mutters for Raphael’s assistance. “I certainly am. This morning I find myself free of pain and with a new trick.” He smirks. “A new power.” 

So he changed, too.

“Last night, the risk of transformation—it all feels like some terrible dream now.”

Talk about subtlety. You answer honestly: “As it happens, I did have a dream last night…”

“You too?” He leans forward, but his smile is strained. “What did you see?”

You hesitate. “Someone… familiar.”

“Yes, of course. So did I, as it happens.” For a moment, you entertain the idea of his tadpole assuming your own form to seduce him. “It was delightful.”

The blank look, the flat voice—he’s holding something back.

Your little fantasy shatters as the queasy feeling coils around your stomach once again.

Those who are not prepared to hear the answers should avoid asking questions.

“What did you really dream about?” Yet you ask them nonetheless. “You can trust me.”

His face turns into a mask of fear. “I dreamt of him.” You know the answer before he can tell you himself. “Cazador.”

Don’t you  _ love  _ being right? Your face feels warm as the implications of his words unravel in your mind. The night you spent together becomes tainted by the truth.

He wasn’t holding back for your sake. You aren’t  _ that  _ delicious. No—desperate for companionship, he was thrashing against the nightmares he was reliving. The nightmares you had him relive when your bodies became one.

Now that you understand what was behind his vacant stare, you feel almost used.

You file these thoughts for later. Me, me, me—what about  _ him _ ? “Are you all right?”

“I’m  _ fine _ .” It’s a lie. You can’t blame him—you’re forcing yourself not to shudder as well.

“Very well.” You try to smile. It doesn’t come out quite right. “I’ll be around if you need anything.”

You see his eyebrows furrow, but you turn around before he can say anything and walk off.

He needs space.  _ You  _ need space.

Maybe Shadowheart has some wine left...

*

The Underdark seems a little less daunting in the Myconid Colony. You have been trying to fall asleep for hours; the fungal lights around your temporary camp are gentle to the eyes, and the spores that dance in the air follow hypnotizing patterns—so why? Why can’t you fall asleep? You sit under a giant mushroom and close your eyes.

Your fixation with Astarion’s dream is almost perverse. 

The tadpole took the form of Cazador because—

No, that’s impossible. It has to be. He has shown nothing but hatred for his former master, so why—

“You’re awake.” Astarion emerges from the shadows with a languid grin. Hunger laces his velvety voice. “I was looking for you.”

You muster a smile. The dream put everyone on edge, made you all less talkative—that’s the excuse you will use, if he’s in the mood for talking.

Which of course he is not.

He sits next to you and his hand immediately finds your thigh.

You almost recoil from the touch—almost.

His eyes become heavy with desire, and you could let go. You could do just like him, drown your sorrows in pleasure.

You can’t.

_ Why Cazador?  _ You place your own hand on his.  _ You should  _ hate  _ him. _

You can’t lie to yourself. You can’t pretend not to feel a vague sense of repulsion.

But you also recognize that it is wrong.

“I’m sorry.” You squeeze Astarion’s chilly hand. “I’m not in the mood tonight.”

Just as you fear, rejection turns his lips into a thin line, turns his gaze cold. “I understand.” What you are rejecting is not him, it’s Cazador’s lingering shadow.

You bare your neck to him. “Wait.” Your voice has a hint of desperation in it, and you watch as his smile turns pleased.

He was never allowed to bite Cazador. Is he thinking of him at this moment, you wonder, as his breath tickles your skin and his tongue finds your pulse on your neck, savouring what’s to come.

_ Are you still thinking of him? _

_ Don’t. _

_ Think of me. _

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I decided to make Larian proud and do an evil run and... got my heart broken by Astarion (again). Some of his reactions in that conversation were RAW, kudos to the writers and the VA, I had to step away from the screen for a moment.  
> I think the scene has a half-implemented high approval version, but the PC can only be an ass instead of giving Astarion space even in that version... so I took matters into my own hands. People seemed to like my previous experiment in second person, so I tried it again—hope it worked here as well.


End file.
